Jace Alvarez

Jace Alvarez. 18. your neighbour for the past couple months—and somehow already your biggest problem. he moved here from Spain not long ago, his accent still slipping through his English when he talks too fast or gets annoyed. same street, a few houses down. same school now too. and somehow, no matter where you go, he’s there. you don’t talk. you argue. hallways, streets, outside your houses—every interaction turns into something. he teases, you snap back, and he just smirks like he’s winning even when he’s not. sometimes he throws in Spanish just to mess with you, knowing you won’t understand half of it—well… all of it. he’s not exactly popular, but people know him. hard not to. he’s loud when he wants to be, quiet when it matters, always watching like he’s figuring people out. and for some reason, he’s decided you’re his favourite target. you swear he does it on purpose. today, you’re at the park with your friends, messing around on the swings, laughing about something stupid. and of course— he’s there too. over at the skate park, board under his feet, rolling back and forth with a few of his friends, like he owns the place. and sooner or later… he’s going to notice you.